Black Cat Pairings Out of a Tin
by Ms. Kreatopita
Summary: EXACTLY as the name implies! Ms. K really does create pairings by drawing them out of a tin. None of the characters will be spared from embarrassment once they're paired up! FINALLY UPDATED! Sorry for the year-long wait!
1. Wilkommen! Bienvenue! Welcome!

**Disclaimers: Man, it's been a while, and I need to get my creative juices flowing again! Originally, Svenaladdin was supposed to be next, but my dad had to wipe our hard drive clean and I lost my upcoming installments of the Follies as well as BSoC. So, I'll have to start from scratch…maybe they'll be better than before!**

**Well, then, WTF is this, you ask? I decided that as an exercise, I would literally pick pairings out of a tin and challenge myself to write a short story about them. Some could be romantic, others…let's just say attempting romance would have a gross result.**

**ANYHOW! I don't own Black Cat or any of the characters in it. Believe me, if I did, Sven and Tearju would be married and the Doctor would be in jail for pedophilia.**

**Black Cat Pairings Out of a Tin**

Pairing Index

(**Bold** indicates completion of story)

1. Woodney/Creed

2. Leon/Nizer

3. Rinslet/Kyoko

4. **Sven/Jenos**

5. Kranz/Lin

6. Durham/Train

7. Silphy/Zagine

8. Shiki/River

9. **Beluga/Belze**

10. Tearju/Sephiria

11. Annette/Saya

12. **Baldor/Maro**

13. **Eathes/Tanya**

14. Echidna/Deak

15. Eve/Charden


	2. Beluga x Belze

**Weapon Envy**

A Beluga/Belze story

Since the day they were both promoted to the position of Chronos Number, Beluga had always been jealous of Belze. It wasn't so much due to the fact that Belze was a whole nine slots ahead of him. He was satisfied with his place as Number XI; and personally, Beluga would have gotten too intimidated knowing that he was second-rate in the eyes of the Chronos Elders, having to attach "assistant" or "vice" to whatever position he held. Nor was it because Belze was on a much more personal level with Sephiria, the only female assassin in the group. Beluga had to leave his wife when he joined the Numbers, so he could care less about impressing another woman. No, what Beluga J. Heard was most envious of was Number II's weapon.

And in so many ways, thought Beluga, Belze's spear was supreme to his bazooka. Gungnir was beautiful to look at, with its specially shaped blade and glistening staff; Verethragna was not. Belze could hack down multiple of enemies in the time it took Beluga to even get his weapon ready to fire. A spear didn't need to be loaded; it was always ready to be used at its full potential. Not to mention Belze didn't have to worry about a clogged bazooka like Beluga had a few times before. And its proportions…that's what really got to him. Gungnir weighed considerably less than Verethragna and still did a good amount of damage, despite it being longer. Most importantly, spears were associated with power and precision, which sort of gave Belze an instantly dominant air; on the other hand, most people linked bazookas with destruction and hell bent warmongers.

…But could a spear smash through walls? Highly doubtful, even with Belze's power and skill. Could it send projectiles hurling towards the enemy at an incredible speed from hundreds of yards away? Impossible. Belze would have to subject himself to a close or midrange fight if he had any hope of landing a blow. And just learning how to use a bazooka was not something for the fainthearted. Over the years, Beluga trained his body to bear the heavy burden that he had elected to carry on his shoulder for the good of humanity. He had to build up his own strength. He had to earn it.

If Beluga ever started to become jealous of Belze again, he would find comfort in this thought. Besides, it wasn't the size that mattered; it's what got the job done.


	3. Sven x Jenos

**A/N:**** And now, Ms. Kreatopita shall attempt the impossible…drumroll, please *enter Random White Cat with a snare drum, drumrolling* *enter Charden with gong*…**_**SHE WILL WRITE HER FIRST YAOI STORY! **_**Yes, it is a monumental day for the Black Cat fanfiction community. A new entity has been born, something that is amazing and terrifying, beautiful and disturbing. I shall call it…**_**SVENOS!!!**_

**Oh, and I don't own **_**Moulin Rouge **_**or **_**3:10 to Yuma**_**.**

**The Hazards of Drinking**

A Sven/Jenos Story

Today was certainly different for Sven. For once, he had the whole afternoon and evening to himself, with nobody around to bother him. Train and Rinslet were on their way to a fancy-shmancy gala of sorts to see if Madame Freesia had something other than bloodthirsty dinosaurs to steal this time around, all while keeping an eye out for Lugart Won. Eve was meeting Leon and Kyoko at the library to help them out with their school projects, and then going out to dinner afterwards. On the flip side, Sven didn't have anyone to really keep him company either. Tearju was halfway across the world speaking at a bioengineering conference, so he couldn't call her up and invite her over to spend some time together (just think "Undern'Eathes it All" with a can of whipped cream and some silk ties thrown in). So what was a gentleman supposed to do at four o'clock in the afternoon in a hotel room all by himself? With a sudden burst of inspiration, Sven realized that this was the perfect opportunity to indulge in one of his most secret guilty pleasures; eating strawberry cheesecake and watching the movie _Moulin Rouge_ in only his pajama bottoms.

Within minutes, Sven was sprawled out on the couch nearly naked except for his loose pajama pants, with a plate of cheesecake resting on his stomach. He made sure to enjoy every mouthful slowly as he watched the movie to savor the flavor (and because he was known to choke on his food during sex scenes). About twenty minutes into the film, there was a knock on the apartment door. Sven reluctantly paused the movie, set his plate on the coffee table, and walked over to answer the door. It was probably just room service, he thought, seeing as the others weren't expected to return until at least eight.

But standing in the doorway, looking as spiffy as can be, was none other than Jenos Hazard with a bottle of champagne and a huge bouquet of roses in his hands. Upon seeing a shirtless Sven instead of Rinslet, he screamed like a little girl and went as red as the roses that went flying all over the hallway. "Oh, holy sh---" Jenos exclaimed, unaware that he remained frozen in a defensive position, gripping the champagne bottle like a club. "D-did I interrupt you or something? I-I was just looking for Rinslet a-and…OH MY GOD!!! Were you and Tearju in the middle of something?!"

_Dammit, Rins_, thought Sven to himself, _how many people have you told about me dating Tearju?_ As calmly as he could, the Sweeper replied, "No, you Chronos dipwad. Does it look like I've been doing anything of the sort?" Sven swung the door open so that Jenos could clearly see the empty hotel room. "Everyone else is gone off to do whatever they needed to do today." He decided it was best not to tell Number VII that a certain Number XIII was escorting Rinslet, the very girl he had expected to meet. There were a few seconds of awkward silence before Sven pointed to the fallen roses and resumed speaking. "So…need some help picking up those flowers?"

By now, Jenos had regained his composure and was starting to pick up a few of the stems that remained intact. "That would be great," he sighed, watching Sven kneel down and pluck the roses around him. "Thank god only one or two broke; I spent an assload on these. Would you mind if I just came in for a second to put these on the table or something?"

Sven didn't see the harm in letting one of the more amiable Chronos Numbers into the hotel room for a minute. He motioned for Jenos to follow him in with the bouquet roughly divided between them. While Jenos placed the bottle of champagne on the counter, Sven was able to find a large glass pitcher to use as a vase and fill it with water. He then set it on the table and began arranging his flowers in the pitcher. At the same time, Jenos added his roses to the bunch. Their fingers brushed together a few times as they shifted the flowers around to make them even. At last, they stood back and admired their work, until Jenos glanced over at the TV.

"Oh my god, I love that movie!" he blurted out. "Probably the only Nicole Kidman flick I can watch over and over again…About how far are you into it?"

"Not very," Sven replied, opening the fridge and taking out the cheesecake to prepare himself another slice. "I can tell Rinslet that you stopped by once she gets back."

Jenos glanced over at the wall clock above the kitchenette and sighed. "Well, slight problem there. See, I didn't expect her to be out. The Chronos limo is booked for the rest of the afternoon, and it won't be back for me until at least seven-thirty. That's about…two hours and forty-five minutes from now, at the least." He paused for a second to ponder. "Unless I started walking now, I might be back at HQ by nine…forty-three miles at eight miles an hour…"

"Hell. No." Sven blatantly interjected. "I don't want to let you back out that door only to hear on the ten o'clock news that you got run over by a bus on a dark road ten miles from here. You're welcome to stay here until your ride comes back, I don't mind. Help yourself to some cheesecake; I'll go put on a shirt."

But Jenos couldn't bear to inconvenience his host, who seemed so comfortable just the way he was, so he hurriedly spurted out, "Don't bother! It's not like I haven't seen myself shirtless or anything! Just sit down and get comfy!" Sven could only give a perplexed stare as he watched the renowned Number VII serve champagne in hotel room plastic cups and load two plates with generous heaps of cheesecake. Jenos carried it all over to the couch and set it on the coffee table. "Now, let's watch!"

* * *

One hour and forty-five minutes later…

The movie was over, the cheesecake had been completely devoured, and the champagne bottle was less than half full. Most of the damage had been done by Jenos, who now groggily rested his head on Sven's shoulder. The Sweeper was a little better off, but he still suffered a slight sugar and alcohol-induced stupor. It was just enough to where he didn't really notice Jenos's arm flop across his bare chest and hug him a little closer.

"You know what? I think I like you," announced an obviously drunk Jenos, "Yep. Not like a fat kid loves cake, but hey, you'll do in this economy." He grabbed the bottle next to him,chugged some of its contents, and shakily refilled Sven's cup, with a few drops splashing on his wrist. "You're a good guy to have around, I mean. Someone to watch movies with, talk about girls and sex with (Sven didn't remember talking about that), get high on cheesecake with, share his…fetus wi– oh, goddamnit, what's the word? Feardings, peelings…"

"Feelings?" suggested Sven, licking the drops of champagne off his hand.

"Yeah, that sort of crap with." Jenos tossed his empty glass bottle aside and drew his face closer to Sven's. "Hey, looks like you've still got a bit of cheesecake on your face!"

"Really? Where?" he muttered, trying to touch his own cheek with his fingers, but he kept getting his jaw.

"Right…here," whispered Jenos, leaning in and licking a morsel of graham crust from the corner of Sven's mouth, throwing the Sweeper completely off guard. Without even thinking, Sven closed his eyes and let his mouth part just a little. Jenos slid his tongue right where the lips met and tilted his head to the side. His once flaccid arms instantly tightened their hold on Sven, forcing his mouth wider and allowing his tongue to be free. Jenos leaned forward until Sven gave in and let himself be pinned between the couch and Jenos. The two kept their lips together and clung to each other for several minutes, sometimes pausing for air. They were so engrossed in that moment that they didn't even notice the door softly open…

"…and if there had been something like jewels, I would have stayed longer, but that was pretty much all Freesia was going to put on display at –"

"**HOLY LIVING F#%!!!!**"

Train recoiled and stopped Rinslet at the doorway, having opened the door on what appeared to be Jenos Hazard topping his half-naked partner and sucking his face. Rinslet stood right beside Train and, upon beholding such a bluntly homoerotic spectacle, she let out a groan and instantly fainted. The Black Cat could have sworn that he saw a small upturn of her lips and a trickle of blood running from her nose before she fell flat on her face. He turned back to Sven and Jenos, who finally realized that they were still holding on to each other. Sven quickly pushed the drunk Number off the couch and sat up to regain his composure.

"Look, Train, I'm not as thunk as you drink I am…" he slurred, ignoring the pitiful 'ouch' that came from the floor. "I was just watching _Moulin Rou_ – I mean _3:10 to Yuma_ when this dumbass came knocking on the door saying he was stranded and…something about roses and champagne, and as a gentleman, you can never refuse champagne. And after that…um…"

"And after that, Jenos the Manwhore here got kicked out for eating all the cheesecake and taking advantage of an obviously intoxicated Sven," finished Train. With a violent jerk, he tugged Jenos by the collar towards the door, (despite the latter's whines of "But I love you, Svenny!"), and unceremoniously shoved him out into the hallway. After bolting the hotel door, Train listened for the irregular footsteps to fade away before spinning around to face his Sweeper friend. "Sorry you had to go through that, bud." A moment of tense silence ensued.

Sven was beginning to sober up and everything was slowly starting to sink in. "Did I really just make out with a GUY?" he murmured. "Oh. My. Honey. Barbecued. God. I did, and it looked like I enjoyed it, didn't it, Train?" He saw absolutely no reassurance in Train's eyes; the Black Cat continued to stare dumbfounded at his partner, and he was just about to speak up when Sven cut him off by stating "_Na-ah-ah-ah!Don't even __start_! I was drunk, he was wasted, and mistakingly kissing another man while drunk does **not** make me gay!"

"Whaaa? Who's gay?" chimed in a voice from the floor. Rinslet had regained consciousness at that moment and was trying to lift herself up. She wiped the small blood flow off her nose with her sleeve and glanced from Train to Sven, then remembered why she had fainted in the first place. "Omigod…it looked so wrong, but why was I turned on? Wait a sec. That's because it IS wrong..._Eeeeeeeeew_! **I am so going to kill that bastard if I find him kissing another man behind my back!!!**" And with that, she ran off to the bathroom to flush all the jewelry Jenos gave her down the toilet.

Silence again. Finally, after a minute, Sven gathered just enough courage to whisper, "Just promise you won't tell anyone else about this?"

"Sure, just as long as you promise not to tell Rinslet that Jenos pulled the exact same thing on me and all the other guy Numbers back in my Chronos days," assured Train with a grin.


	4. Tanya x Eathes

**Disclaimer:**** There is no such thing as Spanky Doodle Diner, and I don't own Hugh Jackman, reigning King of Smexiness.**

**Coffee and a Bagel**

A Tanya/Eathes Story

If there was anything Tanya hated more than work, it was…well, nothing really came to close unless it was combined with something else like, in that morning's case, a slight hangover. It was nothing much. She had only downed two margaritas and a shot of bourbon at the block party last night. At least, that's what she remembered only having. But Tanya knew it hadn't been a lot; she sometimes came into work four times more drunk and still did her job decently enough (if you didn't count the slight increase in coffee spills and illegible order slips). Nope, she didn't think anything would go too awry that day.

When Tanya came out of the break room and into the dining area, she was relieved to find it not so busy. Just a few clusters of people here and there, along with a loner whose head was buried in the newspaper. One of her fellow waitresses passed her on the way to the kitchen, whispering "Go ahead and take table nine." So Tanya whipped out her pad and pen and walked over to the lone customer in as straight of a line as she could. Up close, he seemed short, almost like a midget, and was smartly dressed in a navy blue blazer, khaki slacks, and polished brown loafers. The customer didn't lift his face from his paper as Tanya approached him.

"Welcome to Spanky Doodle Diner, glad to have you here," she recited in an unenthused voice. "Would you like to start off with a cup of our Spanking Good Coffee?" In response, the customer lowered his paper and smiled cheerfully at Tanya. But something was incredibly wrong with that smile…the teeth were pointy, and the face it belonged to was that of…a monkey?! She instantly recoiled and shouted "HOLY SH—"

"**Charden**!" exclaimed a young Japanese schoolgirl three tables away. "Can I get the blueberry pancakes with bacon?"

"The bacon is a bit chewy here, Kyoko" replied the man with a top hat sitting across from her. "I'd recommend getting the sausage instead."

Back at table nine, Tanya was petrified on the spot, gaping and staring dumbly at the monkey. Her hands were still in the position to write his order down, even though her pad and pen had clattered to the ground. She tried to speak, but all she could manage were Beaker-like "meep"s. The monkey, on the other hand, just held out his front paw and cheerfully stated "Oh, how rude of me…I forgot to introduce myself! My name is Eathes, pleasure to meet you!"

Tanya's eyes became as wide as saucers and her jaw dropped. She must have taken some strong stuff last night for her to be seeing a talking anthropomorphic monkey. Not knowing what else to do, she grabbed a knife from a nearby table without diverting her eyes and quickly stabbed herself in the forearm. Nothing changed. Except there was blood and she was biting her lip to keep from howling out in pain. That goddamn ape was still there.

"Miss, please, you're not dreaming, I swear!" panicked Eathes. "I get that reaction all the time! Although the whole knife thing was a tad extreme…"

Tanya exploded.

"**WHAT THE FU—**"

"**Forget about it**!" yelled a green-haired gentleman with an eye patch. "I am NOT going drag for a bounty _ever again_!" He pierced his egg with a fork to emphasize his point and let the yolk ooze over his hashbrowns.

"But Sven, it's so hard to find a dress in my size!" pouted the brown haired young man sitting across the booth from Sven and a blond girl.

"Well, you know what, Train? I seriously don't give a shi—"

"Shouldn't we be focusing on where we're going to find this guy first?" cut in the girl, mopping up the syrup on her plate with a bite of pancake.

Sven sighed. "You're right, Eve. Can't count our chickens before they hatch. Speaking of which…Train, why did you order chicken pot pie for breakfast?!"

Back at table nine, Tanya was practically hyperventilating. She was either drunk/high/stoned off her ass, or she wasn't dreaming, and she prayed to god it was the former. Why else would there be a talking monkey in the restaurant, surrounded by people who just continued their business without reacting? But it was starting to seem less and less like a fantasy as very real blood dripped from her very real cut and she was still chewing on her lip to divert her attention from the very real pain. Tanya could practically feel her nerves snapping in half until only one remained to keep her from going entirely over the edge…

"Perhaps I should have come in looking more presentable," thought Eathes aloud, scratching his chin as he pondered. Then an idea hit him and he snapped his fingers (in a disturbingly humanlike manner). "That's it! I know just the thing!" And right before Tanya's eyes, the monkey in the business suit transformed into a spitting image of Hugh Jackman in a business suit. For the first time, all eyes were focused on table nine.

"Is this better for you, love?" asked Eathes Jackman, combing his fingers through his human hair and smiling in a sensual manner.

Now, had it been any other situation, Tanya would have screamed her lungs out in ecstasy. Well, technically, she was screaming her lungs out right there and then, only it sounded more bloodcurdling as she ran straight out the front door. After about thirty seconds, the high-pitched swear words and thumps from head-on people collisions faded away. The three Sweepers and two Apostles left in the restaurant turned around in their seats and stared at Eathes, who had quickly dropped his celebrity guise.

"What?" the monkey shrugged, "I only came in here for coffee and a bagel!"


	5. Baldor x Maro

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Black Cat, but I do pwn, in case you are interested.

**Author's Note:** Oh my god she lives! Anyhow, me so sahree for not updating this in two-thirds of forever. My first year of college was truly a whirlwind, and I barely had enough time to concentrate on fanfiction. That, and I'm just a lazy ass. So, now that summer is here, perhaps I can actually get a bit of fanficking done. I know this one has a lot of followers, so I thought it would be best to update this one first in my pile of Black Cat stories. Don't worry, the _Follies_ and _Big Sleuth_ are not dead. Yet.

**Hot Springs**

A Baldor/Maro Story

After coming back from Creed's island, Baldor was able to do something that he hadn't done in a very long time: take a vacation. Jenos and Lin had helped the high-strung Number VIII search for a destination where he could relax, a place where he wouldn't have to worry about doing anything or having anyone piss him off. It took them a while, but they finally discovered the perfect place for Baldor at a secluded hot springs resort in Colorado. So, after making reservations and storing his cell phone, Bluetooth, Numbers uniform, Heimdall, and other work-related things in a maximum security vault, Baldor hopped on a Chronos private jet bound for ten days of paradise.

It turned out that the place really was secluded. Baldor had arrived during a time when business was somewhat slow; meaning that outside of the staff, there was hardly anyone else there. He didn't mind it for the first two days, and it gave him time to think as he got a Swedish massage, some meditation classes, and reflexology sessions. But the Chronos Number was so used to having someone around to talk and listen to, even if it was just Jenos bouncing ideas for his next date off of him. He couldn't really talk to any of the staff since they hardly left the place. By day three, Baldor noticed two sensations that he almost never felt: relaxation and boredom. He felt relieved knowing there was nothing he needed to do, but then he felt useless knowing there was nothing he needed to do. Several times, Baldor was tempted to call up Kranz or Belze to have a chat, but then he would remember that he left his cell phone back at headquarters.

Day four came around, and Baldor wanted to begin his morning with a soak in the hot springs. He had just gotten comfortable in the steaming water when he noticed that he was not alone. Seated at the opposite end of the spring was none other than Maro, the blubbery chi master. Baldor had never really had an encounter with him, but if Nizer's first-hand account was anything to go by, this guy meant trouble. Without thinking about it, Baldor lowered his head a little into the water, as if somehow it would make him less visible. His movement did not go unnoticed, though; the large Taoist stared inquisitively at the partially submerged Number.

"Fancy seeing you here, Number VIII," greeted Maro, his usual cynicism absent from his voice. Baldor instinctively began to stand up but was stopped by the signaling of a fleshy hand. "Don't worry, Eraser, I'm not here to make trouble. I only wanted to commune with nature and enjoy my liberation from the Apostles of the Stars. No more fighting for me if I can help it."

A moment of awkward silence followed. Here was Baldor, who under any other circumstances would have thrown caution to the wind and propelled Heimdall towards the massive Taoist. It didn't matter that he had just come to relax, an enemy was an enemy; he had adhered to this philosophy ever since he first joined Chronos many years ago. But now his way of thinking became flawed. First off, he didn't have his trusty ball and chain to chuck at this "ex-Apostle", and secondly, even if he did have it, he simply…didn't feel like it. Baldor began to consider how he would feel if, out of the blue, someone brat like the Black Cat interrupted his peaceful vacation. Funny, this was the first time anything like this had crossed Number VIII's mind. Not wanting to be completely rude, he decided to proceed into uncharted territory: small talk.

"So…what sort of work do you do now?" asked Baldor as casually as he could. He mostly said it to break the silence, and he was surprised when Maro answered.

"Shiki and I are planning to restore our homeland. We recently got word that a small handful of Taoists were not on the island when it was attacked twenty-five years ago, but they have since scattered. While I'm here, Shiki will be meeting with a Taoist whose specialty is electricity. Roga, I think her name is, and she was five at the time of the attack," Maro replied. He soaked his towlette and replaced it atop his head. "How about I ask you a question, Eraser? What sort of things do you pursue in your spare time? Surely, you don't spend every waking hour on missions for Chronos."

The Number grunted a little. "I have a name, you know; it's Baldor. And to answer your question, I do some light reading, mostly philosophy. Right now, for instance, I'm reading Rousseau's _Reveries of the Solitary Walker_ and I find it pretty interesting."

"His interests do seem to conflict directly with the status quo that is civilized society, don't they? To rely solely on individual perception is not so viable when your viewpoint is merely a piece of the whole," offered Maro, quickly picking up on the work he had read several times.

Baldor's surprise was quickly replaced by the joy of having met another fan of great works. "I know, right? For him to even be making a judgment, he would've had to develop his standards based upon the very society he so despises!"

And so the Number and the Apostle became engrossed in an unforgettable conversation about books, religion, current events, and life in general. When each man went to his individual session, the other would wait patiently to pick up right where they left on. They continued as such for the fifth and sixth day, discussing and debating in a friendly manner. In fact, Baldor began to feel more refreshed after their exchanges than before they met. Finally, day seven arrived and it was time for Baldor to depart. He retrieved his civilian clothes and his small bag of belongings from the front desk. Maro planned to stay another few days, but he came to see his new companion off.

"You know, I guess you Apostle guys aren't so bad after all," conceded Baldor. "Amazing what a few days can do."

"I could very well say the same for you and your organization," agreed Maro. "Well, take care, Baldor."

"You too, Maro," replied Number VIII, who had nearly walked out the small lobby when he suddenly remembered something and turned back around. "Oh, and by the way, you're going to have to get Shiki to introduce me to that Roga girl one of these days. From what you told me, she sounds like quite a catch. Make sure to put in a good word for me when you see her!"

Maro gave one of his rare smiles that brimmed with genuine happiness. "Sure thing, my friend."


End file.
